The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate
Chapter 100: Every Obstacle Has A Rhythm

Chapter 100: Every Obstacle Has A Rhythm

That evening, Esme was back on the training field, this time around, being acutely aware of how she could control her body. It was surprisingly easier for her to leap through the hurdles at high speed, instinctively adjusting her strides with newfound precision.

She hadn’t fully realized the extent of her flexibility until she encountered the wooden dummies that swung unexpectedly from the side of the course. Althea called it her ’pop-up dummies’ which sounded funny, but Esme was starting to believe more in herself as she dodged every obstacle heading her way.

Falling rocks, branches, logs, name it. Revana was unforgiving. Esme knew she was going to face this hellish training all over again tomorrow, so she planned to spend the entire night mastering each course so she could perfect it in the morning.

As night fell, the sky opened up, unleashing a downpour that drenched everything beneath it. Esme muttered a quiet curse as the rain came down on her in relentless sheets, cold and heavy, soaking through her clothes until they clung tightly to her skin, emphasizing her curves.

Her legs burned as she charged forward, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps from the relentless pace. Her mind raced with all the obstacles she’s cleared so far – the high hurdles, the sharp corners, the twisting crawl spaces. She was pushing herself to the limit, but her body felt heavier with each passing second.

When she eventually reached the slick, rain-slippery terrain, her foot skidded the moment it touched the slick surface, and before she could regain her balance, her body tilted sideways.

"..!!!.."

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she hit the ground, her entire right side crashing against the wet earth. Mud splattered across her face and clothes, and pain shot through her body. She winced, feeling the sharp sting in her shoulder and hip where she had hit hardest.

For a moment, she just laid there, staring at the dark sky as the rain continued to pour down on her. Her heart thudded against her ribs, the rhythm of frustration matching the pounding in her mind.

Every inch of her body ached from the effort she had already exerted — the laps, the obstacles, the constant tension of pushing herself to the limit. With the rain pelting down on her, it felt like the earth itself was working against her, refusing to let her rise.

A surge of anger welled up inside her, and she slammed her fist into the mud with a frustrated cry.

How is someone like her supposed to handle demon shifters if she can’t even get through this. If she had a wolf, it would have been so much easier to deal with this, but for some unfortunate reason, she had to be the only one without a wolf.

Her fingers dug into the slick, saturated soil, but even her arms betrayed her, trembling under the strain of her effort to fight back against the weight of her own exhaustion.

"I... I can’t do this," the words slipped from her mouth, unbidden and unwelcomed, and it stung worse than the cold rain.

Through the drumming rain, she heard footsteps — light and impossibly steady on the mud.

Esme turned her head slightly, squinting through the rain as she watched Donovan approach, his form barely disturbed by the rain. Where the downpour had turned the ground beneath her feet into a treacherous quagmire, Donovan walked as if it were solid stone.

Even under such harsh condition, his elegance felt almost out of this realm, a sharp contrast to her own struggle. It made her heart clench with both admiration and envy.

’How does he do that?’ she thought, frustrated by the ease with which he moved, while she could barely keep her balance.

He suddenly stopped a few feet away from her, his silver hair plastered to his face from the rain.

He didn’t offer Esme a hand. Instead, he simply crouched down, and Esme couldn’t help but wonder what he must be thinking.

"Lying in the mud won’t get you through the storm," that voice she had come to love and loathe so much cut through the sound of the rain like a knife. "What exactly are you waiting for? The rain to stop, or the ground beneath you to harden?"

Esme winced at his words, her pride stinging worse than her body. She wanted to explain the pain, the exhaustion, but her throat felt tight with the weight of her unsaid words. Instead, she clenched her fist and tried to find her breath, to gather her lost strength.

"I slipped," she whispered in defiance, turning away from him, her voice barely audible in the rain. "I couldn’t... stop my fall, so go ahead and laugh about it now that you have the chance."

But he didn’t laugh.

Donovan’s lips curled softly, and he offered her his hand. "It’s not about stopping the fall, Esme. It’s about finding the strength to get back up on your feet."

Esme swatted his hand away, her frustration simmering. "Easy for you to say, you’re not the one struggling to move."

Ignoring him, she pressed her palms into the mud, trying to lift herself, but her arms trembled, and she sank back down, the cold rain mingling with the frustration building inside her chest.

"I can’t... I’m too tired," she finally admitted, shaking her head. "It’s like... my body is failing me. I don’t understand, how did you learn to do this? I can barely stand."

Donovan cocked his head at her barely audible mutterings, but he refrained from offering his hand again. "It’s not about having raw power, Esme. You don’t conquer the terrain; you harmonize with it. Every surface, every obstacle has a rhythm. You just have to attune yourself to it."

He rose to his full height, his voice taking on a gentle, instructive tone. "You’re tired because you’re fighting everything around you. The rain, the mud – they aren’t your enemies. You’re treating them like they are, and that is what they will be, depending on your view."

Esme’s brow furrowed as she blinked away rainwater, staring at the captivating figure in confusion. "How am I... supposed to work with them?"

"You need to adapt," he let out his hand for her again. "Let the rain fall, let the ground shift beneath your feet, but trust your body to move in sync with it, not against it."

Esme’s eyes flickered from Donovan’s outstretched hand to the mud beneath her. It was cold, slick, unforgiving, and maybe she had been too stubborn. Maybe she had tried to overpower it instead of understanding it.

"I... I see," she whispered, the pain still radiated through her, but Donovan’s words had stirred something inside. Taking a deep breath, she slowly rolled on her knees, placing her hand flat on the muddy ground.

She gazed at his hand, and she finally accepted his help. He didn’t seem to mind the mud and pulled her up to her feet. Her muscles trembled, but she held firm. Rain streamed down her face, and her muscles ached deep in her bone, but the fire in her heart had reignited once again.

"I will complete this course," she said, wiping her muddy hands in her soaked clothes, her heart still pounding in her chest. But now, the failure had faded.

With a deep breath, she turned her eyes back to the course ahead and started running again, but she listened to the words of Donovan this time around, choosing to trust her body to move along with the terrain, and she won’t hold back.